


Color Pool-o-vision

by archipelago41



Series: Cablepool Soulmate Stuff [2]
Category: Cable (Comics), Deadpool (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Gen, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27873210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archipelago41/pseuds/archipelago41
Summary: (Color vision soulmate AUs, unrelated, Bable-centric. Nate & Wade are soulmates, and Bable just has to deal with that.)Subtitle: The Summerses (plus Logan) understand Nate & Wade a little more (or less).
Series: Cablepool Soulmate Stuff [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2030788
Comments: 13
Kudos: 25





	1. Touch

**Author's Note:**

> This is extremely dedicated to the cablepool discord server. Thanks for being fun 💚

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> V1: You get colors when you touch your soulmate for the first time (or are in close physical proximity)

Deadpool has the body. Only he would leave Mexican takeout at a grave, nevermind at Cable's grave with an incriminating location.

So Nate and Esme and a couple of cyborgs go to Staten Island, and Nate has half a mind to shake answers out of Deadpool. He suspects, from what he's heard, that it wouldn't help. He tries appealing to reason.

He should have known it wouldn't work. It's Deadpool. He just lounges on the throne and looks at Nate, squinting his eyes in a way that gets his mask all bunched up. “You could hate me so much more,” he says

Deadpool hugs Nate, and Nate has to get away, he's not down to get hugged by a madman in a cape. It's stifling and feels weird, and his eyes itch. 

Oh no. He keeps blinking, and Esme's concentration is torn between speeding up Deadpool and checking if Nate's okay. 

“Nate?” Esme asks. She winces.

“One, didn't your mom tell you not to poke into people's, but especially my, heads?” Deadpool asks, not fazed at all, like there's not an extremely overwhelming amount of sensory information happening right now. Nate's wearing blue. He knows this but he's never seen this. “Hey wait, fuck! How am I supposed to depend on my handy Nate-is-alive sense if you tripped it! Bad Bable!”

Bable. Nate's not even touching that. But he's definitely not touching Deadpool who is all vibrantly alive and that's what **red** looks like. 

“You're--” Nate knows he and the other guy aren't the same person. Except in the ways that matter, and this is one way it does matter. “He's dead. I _just_ want the body back.”

“Yeah, kind of hard to miss. Good thing my wardrobe is mostly red and black anyway,” Deadpool says, flippantly. “But you shouldn't just leave bodies lying around if you wanted them back.”

Nate can't deal with this right now. He can deal with it after the robots are dealt with. Deadpool wants to play a game for it, like it's some kind of joke. Like Nate's life and the planet does not depend on this. So, Nate's entirely justified when he crashes the pool table and leaves before the stench of rot lingers.

No one should have to smell their own body break down.

He blows up a bomb to save the day. Boom. It's great. Esme is definitely impressed. 

When he gets home, Nate doesn't know whether to break the news that he's met Deadpool or that apparently, _Deadpool is his soulmate and no one told him_. Nate could understand that they were best friends. But two halves of a whole. Soulmates. What. He can avoid Deadpool, but he can't explain away seeing color.

Uncle Logan sniffs when he comes in late for dinner, and asks, “Busy day?”

His mom asks what he's been doing since well, honestly, Nate doesn't know any mutant able to keep ahold of a phone? He should have 'pathed his mother. They're two very strong telepaths. She can hear him anywhere on Earth if she meets him halfway. Which, admittedly does not work half as well when someone's on the moon. 

After Nate tells the story about how he totally owned the Spaceknights who wanted his sword that he found on Krakoa—he didn't steal it, Grandpa—Nate takes a pause to listen to his grandfather's space stories. Space is fucking cool. Why else are they living on the moon? 

Nate stares at the white of the dinner plates and the gleam of the silverware, the same thing as his arm. 

“If you want, you can come with me for a summer,” Grandpa Space Pirate says. 

“I'm not having him be a pirate for a summer,” Mom vetoes. “There's plenty to do on the island.”

“But my crew could make him a pirate of a Summers,” Grandpa says, with a smile. “Same offer for you, Rachel.”

Rachel groans alongside Nate, so there's a thing he agrees on.

“No thanks, I have a job now.” Rachel tells them a little bit about X-Factor's official first case, after finding Aurora. They're still working on it.

“If people are leaving random boxes for you, you've got to make sure it's not a bomb or something,” Grandpa suggests.

“We've got Trevor for that. So, Nate, your young boys novel adventure?” Rachel passes the table back to Nate. “That doesn't explain why we can feel Emma Frost seething from here.”

They can't. But it's a near thing. “I had Esme with me.”

“And Esme is...?” Grandpa asks. 

Nate mumbles, “My girlfriend. She's a Cuckoo.”

“All your girlfriends are Cuckoos,” Rachel says, rolling her eyes. To Grandpa, she explains, “They're Emma's girls, so she's being a mom about them.”

“And that's supposed to mean?” Mom asks, warily.

“Protective,” Rachel says. 

Mom nods. “But you're all telepaths, so one of you should have checked in.”

Nate nodded. “Sorry, but she did ask her mom where they buried old me?”

That's not better, per se. It's still terse when he mentions it. Rachel compartmentalizes, Nate knows, into his old self being her big brother and him being a—

⟦Dorky little brother,⟧ Rachel ’paths, which meant she was skimming. At dinner. Telepaths in the family mean this, and Dad sometimes listens in because he and Mom have a permanent link.

“What did you need to know that for?” Dad asks, carefully cutting his dinner into even, small pieces. 

“The Spaceknights wanted their world or ours, and they said they were going to take over ours unless we had a time machine or something…” Nate shrugs. “I know they weren't serious, but giving them a spare time machine was a neat solution that I pitched them. There was nothing guaranting they wouldn't try to go after both with infinite on their hands, and they'd be mucking with the timeline, besides. And that's how I met Deadpool.”

“So he just showed up?”

“No, uh, he stole the body.”

“Sounds like him. How is Wade?” Uncle Logan asks, bored. “Monsters keeping him busy?”

“We can only hope,” Uncle Alex mutters. “Don't feel obligated to hang out with him.”

Uncle Gabe asks a question, and it strongly implies he has no idea who they're talking about. Uncle Logan gives him the rundown, and he ends with, “Most of us can't stand him for longer than five minutes, and you can't predict him with his particular brand of crazy, but he's good at getting things done. If he's all in with what he's doing, you can't stop him.”

That's almost complimentary.

“Remember when he kept trying to join the X-Men?” Rachel asks. “Is he still on that?”

“He didn't say anything about it,” Nate admits. What's the best way to ask? Be dramatic? Be one with a dramatic reveal. “But I was distracted by needing to get my dead body and also not freak out about suddenly seeing colors.”

Dad does a spit take, spluttering water all over his placemat. “Excuse me!?”

“Yeah, so apparently we're soulmates. You _weren't_ hiding that fact from me?” Nate thinks on it. How long had Old Cable known Wade? From all he's heard, they were joined at the hip or trying to kill each other at all times. “He was kind of mad that I tripped the colors on for him, and I don't get it."

“Mad?” Mom asks, also shocked. “He's mad that you're his soulmate?”

“He called it his, uh, ‘Nate-is-alive’ sense.”

“That does explain a lot,” Dad says, very softly and very pained. “Soulmates?”

A moment of silence. Logan shrugs. “Well, that does make sense. It's not like we didn't know they were a thing. Their very loud and public divorce ring any bells?”

“Divorce!?” Nate's stunned. He can't process that. He's barely over one revelation.

Uncle Logan interjects. “ Look, putting aside the weird relationship troubles future Cable and Deadpool have... Kid, he's used to his soulmate being one foot in the grave and off doing your time thing. You don't have to be around.”

“But... It's not like I have a choice?”

Dad recovers and says, while looking like he wanted to drop off the face of the moon, “If he's trying to—to pressure you into doing _things_ for him, we’ll take care of it.” His mind was just about screaming, ⟦Jean, help!⟧

Nate makes a face and says, “Ew. Dad. I have a sword. And guns. And grenades. And telekinesis. ”

“I'm pretty sure he'd think that was flirting,” Logan dryly adds. “Good luck breaking the news to the girlfriends.”

“You think they'd break up with him for it?” asks Rachel, while she grabs the last roll.

Grandpa blinks. He thinks, _My family is so weird._ “Offer still stands, Nate.”

⁂

Nate firmly, firmly puts the idea of soulmates away. They don't have to be a big deal. People date and live and can lead perfectly happy lives without a soulmate. The fashion industry and graphic design industry will tell you otherwise, but colors are overrated. That's it.

Look, there's a person who will change your life forever, and they will give you colors. It's because they give you colors, not because they'll do anything else pivotal or important in your life.

That's it. 

Deadpool doesn't have friends, and he only had Old Cable, didn't he? Nate can accept they'll be friends one day. There's got to be an upside to him. Maybe Deadpool is kind of depressed from being around all the monsters and being alone. He's not at his best.

That's it. 

⁂

“Okay, is it ‘Awkward In-Laws Visit’ day?” That doesn't help with Nate's panic, but to be fair, Deadpool looks mildy concerned. Nate would be, if the Summers family invaded his country. Though, if there's a gate here, is it an invasion?

“No, boss.” All monsters look the same to Nate but it's probably the same guard from last time.

“We're here to talk about a personal issue,” Dad says, using his War Captain Voice. It's a good commanding voice that sounds extremely bad in non-battlefield situations. “About Nathan.”

“The first family of mutants—oh, is that you or Magneto's stuff? Do they not count because they're mostly Avengers and we need to keep the editorial desks separate?—is here to give me a shovel talk. That's a bit overkill. And Logan's here! How much will the pencils cost on the collector's market?“

“Wade,” Uncle Logan grunts. “Listen.”

”Can we pause on the threatening bodily harm? Kid Cable's definitely under the half plus seven rule. You know how gross teenage boys are? I don't want that. I need to be the gross one in any relationship,” Deadpool helpfully adds. “You can start coyly batting your lashes at me at twenty five and maybe a scandalous day younger.”

“I'm not Kid Cable,” Nate gripes. “And I won't—I'm not—you're Deadpool.”

“Okay, sorry Bable.” He blinks. “That's a very astute observation. But anyway, what I do with adult, ripped like a tank and senior discount Nate is none of your business until you get to that age. So any of the parental figures want to stand down? Not even Wolvie—and I thought you'd be on my side for this one, really and you're welcome to immigrate any time—anyone?”

“Well, nice to have that cleared up,” Dad says, through clenched teeth.

Mom finishes the thought for him. “We're here to talk about the other Nathan. Older Nathan. We've got news.”

Nate doesn't think he's ever seen anyone switch moods that fast. He might have emotional whiplash. Deadpool claps his hands together, his mask somehow expressing glee. “Tell me everything! You're the best in-laws!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corsair: I can't believe the one piece of advice that my son comes to me for and that I can give is how to try to be a dad to your deaged to teenage son


	2. First meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colors, v2: You get your colors when you meet your soulmate. No one ever told Nate that?

Nate clutches his head. It's weird. It's bad, and it feels like his world shudders, rattling around in his head. He screams, and he can feel one of his psi-links vibrate and splinter, and he doesn't even know where that one goes, who is it for?

Someone's at his mental door, and they brush against his mind, but he doesn't know who. He sends out distress. Mom and Rachel find Nate on his bedroom floor, taking deep breaths. “My head,” he moans.

He opens his eyes look at them. Everything is shades of gray, like how his memories feel from when he was really young. From when his parents still were around. Before he defeated Apocalypse the first time and learned that evil will fit itself to the void left behind.

“Nate, honey,” Mom coos while she holds Nate's hand, and she and Rachel ease some of the pain out, blocking it to a dull trickle. “What happened?”

“I don't know.” He can sit up. “It hurts. It's stopped, some, but I. Everything's weird. I can't see any colors.”

Mom and Rachel share a Look, and Nate hates it because that means there's something they aren't telling him. 

Rachel asks, “Can you get up? You're going down the Healing Gardens. I just told them.”

Ten minutes later, the colors are back, and if Nate carefully pokes at the frayed psi-link, he can see it knit itself back together. He's not listening to Healer say anything, not listening to the questions that Nate doesn't have the answer to. In relief, he breathes, “They're back. Everything looks okay now."

Healer says, “The Five don't work that fast.”

The Five mean resurrections. “What do they have to do with a psychic attack on me?”

Mom gives Nate a Look, and she tells him, softly. “We know that them coming back in means they're back. They were gone way too long for it to be something ordinary. I know it must be scary.”

“They? As in a person?”

“Your soulmate, the one who gave you colors? You remember not having them?”

Because they're other people's eyes, you really can't know if they see color or not. If everyone agrees to call this shade red and this one blue—then it would be an afterthought in a world like Nate's future. When his parents were with him, they never shied away from calling things colors.

“My soulmate?” he asks.

They don't. They don't talk about those in the future. Nate's always been an outlier, but he rolls the word on this tongue. It's hazy. Familiar but not.

Mom takes his hand and realizes they never had this talk. Nate was on the cusp of beginning puberty when they left. “I think this is a talk your father needs to be here for, too.”

Rachel pats Nate on the head. “I'm here if you want, after.”

They gate back to the house when Healer says he can't find anything wrong, and Mom's better at diagnosing psychic hurts.

Dad meets them in the living room. “I didn't think I'd need to give this talk. I forgot, since.”

“Since all our kids come fully grown from the future?” Mom remarks, wryly.

Okay, first things first, “I don't know why you're starting out like this is the sex talk.” A confused look flashes on their faces, and oh no. “I do not need the sex talk. Dad, no.”

“As long as the … six of you are being safe, ” Dad says, and Nathan wants to die, a little. “You're too young to follow that law.”

“You should do what your father did, ” Mom jokes, and she has earned the right to joke about it after all the drama. “And wait until a future version of them shows up first and then decide.”

“Okay, thanks! Um, soulmates?”

They give him the talk. Soulmates give you color when you meet them, and Nathan hadn't met his at twelve. He can fill in the memories with colors in his mind if he wants. 

“Only a cloth merchant would care,” Nate thinks. “And there were only a few of those worth knowing.”

“You'd run around half-naked if I didn't make you wear a shirt." Mom huffs, but she's smiling.

So. Soulmates. They're significant in pop culture, but nothing's been proven that they have to be the most important person in your life. It's just. When someone gives you a whole new sense, it changes how you think about them. Mom and Dad are soulmates, but Dad can only see red because of his mutation. 

“Just shades of red,” he says, fondly. “Lucky it's my favorite color.”

Dads. Nate laughs anyway. 

“And someone might say you have to be with your soulmate, but just because you gave each other colors doesn't mean that's the case. A relationship doesn't have to just be two people, it can be—”

“Dad." Nate has to stop him. He has five girlfriends. “Are you dadsplaining polyamory to me?”

“I—Okay, maybe? But don't feel like you have to be with or be only with your soulmate because you have one.”

“I don't want to know about you or Mom or Uncle Logan or _anyone else involved_ any more than I already do. I love you, but no.”

“So who is it?” Mom swiftly changes the subject. “I don't know how time travel could affect it.”

“I can remember colors of things around when you left, but I don't remember anyone saying anything. Maybe a little earlier? But not clearly." They definitely came in later, but memory is a thing in flux. He knows the colors of things and the things in his memories fill it in. "If my soulmate's in that future, but they just died and came back, I. I don't know. Should I worry about them? I don't know if I can't. Or if I can?”

Mom hugs him. It's nice. Mom hugs are great.

"You might never know who it is," Dad starts, which is immediately super helpful. "But that doesn't mean you can't care about them, and not knowing who they are doesn't mean you're worse off or failing them." 

"We've got a link," Nate mumbles. "It's not really strong? It might be weird because of time travel. But maybe I could check up on them?" 

Mom nods. "If that's what you want to do. Just don't go straight into trying to have conversations with them. Let's take it easy until we figure out if there's any lasting effects."

Nate feels like he can just breathe now. "I feel a lot better."

“I know we'll never make up for leaving you alone,” Mom says. “But we love you, and we're grateful to have you with us.”

“But you didn't,” Nate says, confused. “I had a guy. He watched over me when I needed it. _You sent him._ ”

Mom and Dad share a Look, and Nate could peek in their heads because they're definitely talking. He's not sure his powers are up to it, though. “Who?”

“My guardian? Watcher, sitter? Whatever you want to call him?” Nate is baffled. “He said you sent him. That I. That you missed me but couldn't come back, and that'd you see me again. He told me I wasn't alone.”

Dad scratches the back of his head. “We didn't,” he admits. “But it looks like we will. We'll have to thank him when we find him.”

“He was your friend?”

“Oh,” Nate says. Time travel. He thinks about his protector in red and flushes. “No, he was definitely more of a distant watcher, but he protected me. I wouldn't be here without him. I owe him a lot.”

“What's his name?” prompts Mom.

“I don't actually know it. He never told me.”

“Nathan, are you telling me a strange man without a name went up to you and you trusted him?” Dad says, suddenly on the defensive. “What's he look like?”

“I was twelve, and I'd just lost you!” Nate insists. Also, his minder would never hurt Nate. Never. “I'm pretty sure in this one case, that's okay. Considering we're setting it in motion."

Mom pats Dad's arm. “He's got a point, Scott. You don't have his name? What's his mind feel like?”

“Weird, but not in a bad way? I couldn't get through whatever weird shielding it was, like shifting sand. I couldn't even get surface thoughts.” He managed to get into his surface emotions, once. It was nice. Chaotic, but nice.

Dad groans. “Jean, you know who that is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scott: jean pls don't make me tell Nathan  
> Bable: mom? Who is he? You know him? I need to thank him. He's really cool.  
> Scott: *pain*  
> Jean: I wonder how much we'll pay him to do that for you. How many times did he save you?  
> Bable: he's taken at least half a dozen bullets and a dozen laser blasts for me so it's worth it.  
> Jean: Nathan, you're fifteen. What were you doing!?  
> Bable: mom pls
> 
> Later:  
> Scott and Jean have to call DP.  
> DP: lol I gotchu I already did that  
> Scott: *pained* thank... You  
> DP: don't have a heart attack or anything. I take cash and bitcoin if you wanted to tip me  
> DP: and nudes, but send me old Cable nudes, not bable nudes
> 
> I could write Bable or other summers or other characters finding out about Split Second for eternity and still be amused


	3. First meeting, addendum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of chapter 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I definitely did not intend anything else in this but I'm sharing now. Done.

Nate thinks it's a fluke when the colors go away again. There's this weird tingly feeling down the link and then it hurts and he can feel it unwind. It's back in a minute. That must mean it's some sort of residual thing. Unless it was quick. They are back—maybe they choked and got CPR? It's the kind of ordinary thing.

“I just wish they were more careful,” Nate says. “It scared the shit out of me.”

“Language, Nathan."

“Sorry, Mom."

“But this means you should be careful too. If you can feel the link break, think about how confused they must be if you're ever in mortal danger.”

He's not sure what constitutes a death, but the shade Mom just threw for the tournament was definitely a minor one.

Then it happens again, and Nate grits his teeth during a shower. Seconds, this time. Maybe it is just residual timeline effects. 

He doesn't think about until he passes out on a date with Phoebe, and it hurts. Going to explore the ever-shifting lands of Krakoa is something they can handle, but Nate bows over and can't move on. He leans against a tree. It hurts so much, and it kind of freaks her out. 

It takes five minutes for the pain to fade and two hours for the colors to come back. But they come back, and Nate knows the rest of her sisters are definitely watching this situation because what else is she going to do while Nate curls in a little ball and holds her hand? Her mind is a balm—steady as a stone— but Nate aches, and the healing psi-link itches like newly grown skin.

It doesn't stop. It's not a fluke. Sometimes the incidents are like stubbing a toe, and sometimes they're like a siren in his ear. 

“They keep dying!” Nate wants to break something, and luckily, they've got a training room and also no one cares if he shoots moon rocks. He wants to scream. It's disorienting and hurts, and when someone says Old Cable was a grump, maybe this is why. This kind of intermittent, random pain would sour anyone. It's annoying at best. Debilitating at worst. He aims a blaster at a target; the moon rock shatters into fine dust. “They're an idiot!”

He does that for a while. When Rachel slips into his head to soothe him, it doesn't work. Nate doesn't want to be soothed. But it's nice that she can talk to him while he keeps taking it out on the scenery.

⟦Nate? We were wondering where you were? You okay?⟧

He isn't. She can feel it. 

⟦I don't care if they keep coming back! They keep dying, and it hurts, and reconnecting feels like breathing, but they die! Every time! What the fuck are they even doing!⟧

⟦You're panicking.⟧

⟦My soulmate dies more than once a week! I hate it! I kind of hate them. A lot.⟧ He holsters his gun. Nate could slash things? That's an option. But, then he takes a deep breath and he just stops and puts his sword down on the ground, curls up and puts his knees to his chest.

⟦You don't mean that. ⟧

⟦I absolutely do. Who dies this much? Am I just meant to feel them die in every timeline? It's not fair.⟧

Rachel resolves to pass him Amazing Baby as soon as possible. ⟦Puppies make things better.⟧

⁂

And then there's the time Nathan finds Deadpool rummaging in one of his safe houses, with Deadpool themed boxers over his suit. In the kitchen, specifically, moving takeout boxes that may've grown sentience by the smell.

“Oh, hey Bable,” he greets.

How. Why. How is Deadpool here? “Deadpool?” and then a beat later, “Can you stop with that nickname?”

“Well, you're not my Nate yet—Oable? No, too many vowels. OG Cable. That's a terrible rapper name. Bable and the babettes. That's a band.” Deadpool shrugs. “It'sa me, Deadpool. Here, genuine article.”

He. 

He fucking shoots himself in the heart. 

Nate's head screeches, and it feels like a crack in the firmament of the world. He blinks, and the world flickers, just a little. 

Deadpool coughs, and blood sprays over Nate's clean floors. “One's good enough? Ooh, this baby packs a punch. Her name's Delores.”

It's not hard to connect the dots, and there's. There's a lot to unpack about time travel and causality, and whatever quirk of genetics and magic or whatever that literally changes people's sense of sight.

“Could you die less,” Nate manages to spit out. He doesn't want it to be true, but Deadpool just shot himself. To verify his identity. He doesn't care if he dies. He knows it doesn't stick. It makes horrifyingly, sickening sense. “It's reckless.”

“Aw,” Deadpool coos. “You care.”

“Don't shoot yourself in my safe house, what the fuck. It's messy.” Nate sounds a little more of himself. “What are you doing here?”

Nate feels like he should draw his sword, but he's a little overcome with revelations now.

“I had a job close-by,” he says. He offers a styrofoam clamshell of cold fries, presumably.“Figured I'd drop in.”

“Don't you run a country?!?”

“Gotta provide for my citizens somehow. Social security nets are expensive.”

Nate has to go. He leaves, stomping towards his databases. He yells out, “Just don't leave your trash!” and he will unpack this in a few decades. This is upsetting.


End file.
